


Mornings

by Lacrima



Category: Karneval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5382251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrima/pseuds/Lacrima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Akari is not as perfect as Azana thinks he is, and Hirato has some fun with vexing our favourite doctor. This is, of course, only when Akari does not have emergency operations at ungodly hours in the night. -S A</p><p>Posting from ffNET because it's about time :3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings

Despite his meticulous and robotic 100% perfectionism, mornings were not a good time for Akari. You would only know if you had the pleasurable experience of personally rousing him. Which, of course, Hirato has plenty of.

The first two minutes of fruitless attempts to drag him back to earth from la-la-land, Akari, his mussed and tangled rose-y hair in his eyes, merely turns over and hides under his pillow, which is usually hugged like a plushie during the night.

There are then three options: to tell him that he has morning breath, to pull his covers off, and to jump on him.

Akari doesn't mind the morning breath comment. He really doesn't. Because he knows that his breath is always minty. Never sweet, but just a light fragrant mint, as he is always conscious of his hygiene, and takes care of his teeth religiously. Of course this may seem strange, because mint, which is a delightful green, contrasts starkly with his pink hair. If you think about it though- it matches his personality like his sterilized surgical gloves. So he ignores the comment and keeps on sleeping.

Another choice is to pull his covers off. Which is not very practical, as he rolls himself into a Swiss Roll. Unravelling the blankets would either send him rolling off the bed in the other direction, or pull him off the bed, bundled up and immobile. No one wants a crippled or sore doctor, because that results in crooked shots, messed up surgeries, and probably more casualties than there were to begin with.

Hirato's last choice is to jump on him. Akari usually classifies this as an attack, and immediately lashes out, nectarine eyes narrowed in anger, tousled and drowsy. Uncannily similar to a napping cat dropped in a pond.

After careful consideration, Hirato chooses the last option. Chuckling, with a curl in his lip, he pounces on the blissfully unaware Akari-Swiss Roll. Throughout the hall people lethargically blink bleary eyes as they hear a shriek ring out. Hirato dodges Akari's angry fist and catches it as it goes by. He chuckles at the dishevelled doctor, who glared at him malevolently with eyes that promised pain the next time Hirato went for a check-up.

"Wake up, my lovely Akari. You stayed up far too late last night. Come to breakfast with Tsukitachi and me- and don't be late for our tea party at four."

If looks could have a physical reaction the icy look he was giving Hirato would have frozen Hell seven times over, withered every plant in a 10 mile radius, driven Yogi to suicide, and turned Hirato into Dippin' Dots.

No one gave a second glance as the second ship captain drags a tousled doctor to the mess hall for the freshly brewed strawberrypeach smoothies and extremely fattening strawberry and whipped creme crepes.

The knackered occupants of the corridor groaned, when, upon observation, all their clocks read 4:02 AM.

**Author's Note:**

> First one for me!
> 
> Reviews are appreciated, and critique is welcome!


End file.
